


Joy Made Me Agile

by FlyFreeSkylark



Category: Jane Eyre - Charlotte Brontë
Genre: Dry Orgasm, F/M, Foreplay, Horseback Riding, Non-Penetrative Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29762622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyFreeSkylark/pseuds/FlyFreeSkylark
Summary: Jane rushes to greet Mr. Rochester and gets a preview of their wedding night.  On a horse.
Relationships: Jane Eyre/Edward Rochester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Joy Made Me Agile

**Author's Note:**

> This scene takes place--and borrows dialogue from--chapter 25 of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte.

“How late it grows!” I said, “I will run down to the gates. It is moonlight at intervals. I can see a good way on the road. He may be coming now.”

The wind roared high in the great trees which embowered the gates. The shadows of clouds crossed the moon at intervals. The night grew dark and rain came driving fast on the gale. “I wish he would come! I cannot sit by the fireside while he is abroad in inclement weather,” I exclaimed. “Better tire my limbs than strain my heart. I will go forward and meet him.”

I set out. I walked fast, but not far. I heard the tramp of hoofs, a horseman came on, full gallop, a dog ran by his side. It was he. He saw me, for the moon had opened a blue field in the sky and rode in it watery bright. He took his hat off, and waved it round his head. I now ran to meet him.

“There!” he exclaimed, as he stretched out his hand and bent from the saddle. “You cannot do without me, that is evident. Step on my boot-tie, give me both hands, mount!”

I obeyed. Joy made me agile: I sprang up before him and sat sideways on his saddle so my hips fit snuggly between his thighs. A hearty kissing I got for a welcome and some boastful triumph, which I swallowed as well as I could. He checked himself in his exultation to demand, “But is there anything the matter, Janet, that you come to meet me at such an hour? Is there anything wrong?”

“No, but I thought you would never come. I could not bear to wait in the house for you, especially with this rain and wind.”

“Rain and wind, indeed! Yes, you are dripping like a mermaid! Remove you soaking cloak and pull mine round you.” Warmth and musky scent enveloped us as he wrapped the cloak about my shoulders. “I ask again, is there anything the matter?”

“Nothing, now that I am in your arms,” I said, leaning my head against his broad chest. “I am neither afraid nor unhappy. I’ll tell you by-and-by sir, and I daresay you will only laugh at me for my pains.”

“I’ll laugh at you heartily when tomorrow is past. Till then I dare not, for my prize is not certain.” Mr. Rochester kissed my hair and held me tighter. He steered Mesrour onto the path of beech trees, away from Thornfield Hall. “But this is you, who have been slippery as an eel this last month, and as thorny as a briar-rose. I could not lay a finger anywhere but I was pricked and now I seem to have gathered up a stray lamb in my arms.” Gazing now into my eyes, he said, “You wandered out of fold to seek your shepherd, did you Jane?”

“I wanted you,” I said, cupping his rough cheek with my small hand. “But don’t boast!” I gave his cheek a playful slap, then trailed my fingers to the nape of his neck.

“Give me your confidence, Jane,” he said, planting light kisses along my jawbone. “What do you fear? That I shall not prove a good husband?”

“It is the idea farthest from my thoughts,” I said, distracted by his kisses as his lips met my pulse point.

“Are you apprehensive of the new sphere you are about to enter?” He nipped my flesh, then breathed warm breath on the damp skin. I tilted my head to allow him easier access to my neck and squeezed my thighs together to quell the stirring deep in my belly. “Of the new life into which you are passing?”

“No,” I said, sighing. He suckled my neck, and through the layers of our clothes, I felt his manhood twitch. This assertion of his masculinity caused a quiver in the hollow between my legs.

“Are you apprehensive of the wedding night?” he whispered in my ear before sucking my earlobe into his mouth.

Drawing back to look into his deep, black eyes, I shook my head and said, “All day yesterday I was very busy and very happy. I am not, as you seem to think, troubled by any haunting fears about the new sphere.” Now running my fingers through his thick hair, “I think it a glorious thing to have the hope of living with you, because I love you.”

I received another hearty kiss and a caress along my waist to my thigh. “My little sprite, fearless in the face of the unknown! You may not have any haunting fears, but surely you must dwell in some curiosity.” He whispered now in my ear, “Shall I give you some indication of what to expect in the marital bed?”

“Sir!” I exclaimed, placing a hand on his chest to create some distance. “I have kept you rightly in check this past month. I will not compromise myself now!”

“No compromises, my darling. I simply mean to allay your nerves, and perhaps leave you eager to experience the intimacy shared between husband and wife.”

“Sir, I am as impatient as Adele to unwrap my 'petite cadeau,'” I said, grinning now with a mischief of my own.

“Ha! ‘Petite’ it is not! Here, feel what you do to me.” He took my hand and guided it to the joining of his limbs. Placing my palm on his trousers, I felt his manhood through the soft material, firm and warm. I explored his shape with my fingertips. When I traced along his length, it grew and stiffened with my touch, provoking a deep groan from his throat.

Mr. Rochester kissed me forcefully, coaxing my lips apart with his. I wrapped my arms around his neck and our tongues danced. Finding the hem of my skirt, he slipped his hand beneath it, first stroking my stocking, then the naked skin of my inner thigh. I felt a surge of moistness flow from my sex. Breaking apart with a gasp, I closed my thighs tightly, trapping his hand between my legs and entreated, “Sir, I must exact from you a promise to maintain my honor until we are wed.”

“I swear it, Jane. I will take your flower in our marriage bed. Oh! How sweet it will be!” Laying his check on mine, he spoke in a low tone, “Until then, I vow to keep your virtue. But, darling, may I not share with you a portion of my passion?”

“Because you vow it, sir, I consent to be at your mercy,” I conceded with a tone of strained arousal. With a flash of his eye and triumphant chuckle, he laid my trembling body across his lap, cradling my head against his shoulder. He continued his caress of my inner thigh, inching closer to my sacred center. I melted at his touch and allowed Mr. Rochester to divide my legs with his palm.

“So, Ms. Eyre, within you is a barrier.” He grazed my opening gently, parting the outer folds. “When I take your maidenhead, I will enter you thus.” He dipped a thick finger inside me just a fraction, eased along by the moistness he had already elicited. “This will give me great pleasure, Jane. I can feel that my caresses and kisses have begun to give you pleasure as well. Slippery as an eel, indeed!”

I panted as he continued to stroke my folds. My inner flesh contracted as he eased a finger deep inside me, then dragged it slowly back out before plunging it in, again and again. My body writhed against his thrusts and my airy voice made strange sounds. He continued his narration, “I will spill my seed inside your womb. Oh! You are so tight, I expect it will not take me long. Then we will be of one flesh, as man and wife.” 

Mr. Rochester removed his finger and raised me to sitting. My body yielded willingly to his manipulations. Wrapping one arm around my waist, he lifted me up, swept my skirts aside and swung my leg across Mesrour’s back. When he placed me down, my legs were spread and my bare buttocks and sex rested against the saddle. I placed both my hands on the horse’s back as my master nudged my shoulders forward. He nimbly unbuttoned my dress and tugged loose the laces of my corset. Embracing me again, he put the reigns in my hand and wrapped the cloak round us both. I gasped as he tickled my collar bone with his fingertips, wandering to my bosom. He tugged down my bodice, corset and chemise, exposing my breasts. He kneaded them both simultaneously: I moaned aloud at the exquisite sensation he stimulated. When he pinched my erect nipples, I cried out in a pain that quickly turned to a radiating pleasure.

“As I take your maidenhead, you may feel pain and you may bleed a little. Oh, but if I could spare you this pain, my pet! I will, however, prepare you for my penetration by awakening your senses, as I do now. By the time I enter you, I daresay you will be desperate for it.” I was desperate now, for what, I was uncertain.

I felt Mr. Rochester remove his cravat, stand in the stirrups and make some arrangement of his trousers. When he sat back down, he drew my hips backwards and nestled his firm erection against the cleft of my buttocks, only the silken scarf that had been around his neck separating our nakedness. He tilted his hips and thrust his erection along my cleft.

In this new position, Mr. Rochester again teased my wet folds, but soon concentrated his ministrations on a small bump of flesh at the peak of my sex. His deft fingers now set my inner flesh aflutter. He said, “When I spill my seed, I have reached my peak of passion. If we do not share this release, my love, I will find yours by other means.” I barely grasped the meaning of his words, but soon began to comprehend as Mr. Rochester coaxed that small but powerful bud. A glorious tension began to build deep inside me, emanating from his touch to every extremity of my body. My limbs stiffened, I bowed my body against his strong, wide chest, closed my eyes and parted my lips, crying out with small chirps of joy.

Mr. Rochester took the reins in one hand, and with a sharp kick of his heel, bid the horse to trot. With each tramp of Mesrour’s hoof, my wet sex slid delightfully against the warm leather of the saddle, Mr. Rochester’s finger slid across my bud and the sumptuous cloth of his cravat allowed his warm, throbbing manhood to slide smoothly along my backside. I do not ride, reader, but Mr. Rochester’s stalwart strength was enough to keep us mounted.

As the tension in my sex built, Mr. Rochester growled wildly in my ear, “Jane Eyre, I yearn to be inside you! Come for me, my little wife.” My wings of desire undulated with each trot.

“Oh, Edward!” I cried as my body clenched and then took flight, blissful spasms soaring from my sex into the night sky itself. I felt my future husband hitch against my buttocks and he too bellowed into the night as he spurt into his cravat, warm and damp against my backside.

I slumped back onto his chest, gasping. When I looked at his face, his eyes were clear and full of tenderness. “Are you happy, Jane?” he asked, wrapping his arms around my bare breasts, pulling the cloak tight around our nestled bodies.

“Yes,” I sighed, nestling my head against his beating heart. “You?”

“You conquer me, quite,” he responded, placing a caring kiss on my temple. Mr. Rochester took the reins in both hands and steered us back toward Thornfield Hall.


End file.
